


Dancing On the Blades

by sonatass



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Professional Figure Skaters, Multi, figure skating AU, i don’t want to spoil anything that i have planned!!!, ik the relationships seem confusing rn but you’ll see what i do with them, just know that it’ll probably change/not work out, slowburn, so if there’s a ship that you don’t like initially
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonatass/pseuds/sonatass
Summary: After years of being on the ice, skating his heart out until his feet were black-and-blue and sweat drenched his body—countless hours of practice that left his heart beating out of his chest and muscles aching with fatigue; after years of saving up what little money he and his mother had on ridiculously expensive skating gear; after pouring blood, sweat and tears into his dream: he did it.Though it was difficult and exhausting and taxing, it was worth it, and he made it.Evan Hansen was officially part of the United States figure skating team.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> preface in end notes*
> 
> is this fandom even alive anymore? idk, i'm not as invested in it anymore though
> 
> i started writing this late last year with the intention of posting it and regularly updating it, but never got around to doing so until now. i'm only really making it public because i'm really proud of how it turned out and i worked very hard on it so thanks to everyone who decides to check it out!
> 
> that being said, it shouldn't be too heavily expected that this fic gets updated. i have some more things left over to post in another chapter, though. if it gets enough demands to (which i doubt lmao) maybe i'll write more, but who knows? regardless, i hope you enjoy!

Evan remembers being driven.

He remembers passing by open fields with yellow-green grass and bunches of trees. He always found trees just so _intriguing_ ; how their branches, like arms, seemed to reach up to the sky to greet the sun and the colors of the leaves that all blurred together in some sort of hazy, dreamlike way. He’d always had the urge to touch one, to climb one, and feel what it would be like to be so high up in the sky. Maybe he’d see birds in nests, or even the stars and aliens if he went high enough.

It was autumn, which, the boy that was now aged four years old, would later come to learn is his favorite season.

He watched the world pass by as they drove, and when his family finally arrived at their destination and got out of the car, Evan remembers holding one of his mom’s hands in his right hand and one of his dad’s in his left as they entered an unfamiliar building.

When the doors opened he was hit with a rush of cold air and he immediately wanted to retreat back to the car. He whined and squeezed his parents’ hands nervously, earning a chuckle from his father, who let go to dig money out of his wallet. He looked up, unsure, at his mother who flashed a reassuring smile and squeezed back tightly.

“It’s okay little guy,” she said in her familiarly soothing tone, “I’m not going anywhere.” She picked Evan up to hold him, patting his back lightly and softly shushing him as she usually did when he was overwhelmed. It worked to calm his nerves about the new situation for a little while, and he was able to relax into her touch.

“First time seeing an ice show?” Came an unrecognizable voice, and Evan looked quizzically at the clerk behind the ticket booth smiling at him. Instinctively, he hid his face in his mother’s shoulder, seeking comfort. He heard his dad laugh again, more unsure this time, as he answered for him, saying, “Yup, sure is.”

And then his mom, quieter, “He’s really shy.”

There was a noise of acknowledgment from the clerk as she pulled out tickets that she handed to Evan’s father. She smiled at Evan and gave a small wink, causing him to shrink back into his mother. “Well, have fun, you guys!”

His parents exchanged words of thanks with the stranger and began walking away. Evan heard indistinct noises, muted music and the voices of other people chattering excitedly. And though it was hard for him to process it was… a _lot_ , and he buried his head deeper still in his mom’s shirt, not lifting it up until she sat him down on her lap.

After a while the lights dimmed and a loud voice came over on the speakers. Evan looked over to see his dad looking ahead expressionlessly, and then to his mom who had a grin on her face. She noticed and motioned for him to look forward in time with the music starting, bright lights glittering off of the shiny surface of the ice below.

Music started playing and the lights danced along to it, intertwining and fading together as if they were one. It reminded him of the colors of the leaves and how they blurred together in motion; but the lights were nothing compared to seeing his favorite characters skate out with a grace he couldn’t quite place a description on.

They swirled around with ease, performing jumps, lifting each other in the air, singing and dancing and it looked as enjoyable to perform as it was to watch.

For the next two or so hours Evan watched the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced.

He’d heard from his parents that it was called “Disney On Ice”. They bought him a t-shirt and a cup from it, both branded with the face of Pluto the dog. Pluto was his favorite.

He was still buzzing from it weeks later like he’d just came back from seeing it. He wore the shirt even after it was faded from too many times in the washing machine, and refused to drink out of any other cup for months. Every time it came back to their state, the Hansens would try their best to buy tickets to give Evan on special occasions.

After seeing how happy it made him, regardless of how many times he witnessed it, they started bringing their son to the skating rink and skated as a family. And, after many lengthy discussions, Evan was signed up for Figure Skating lessons.

 

* * *

 

Evan remembers seeing his first international skating competition. He was six years old, and, luckily, it wasn’t too far from where he lived in Pennsylvania. Only a state over in Lake Placid, New York.

He definitely wasn’t satisfied with having to drive for hours on end but he was thrilled to finally see a competition in person, and not just on the (rather small) family television like he had for the past two years.

Besides, he liked taking in the view of the trees on the way over. That was always his favorite part of lengthy car rides. Whenever he whined and asked how long until they got there, his mother simply smiled and told him, “Evan, look at all the trees!” And he did, bopping along to the Disney on Ice soundtrack that he’d gotten for one of his Hanukkah gifts the previous year.

He’d practically exploded with energy after they had parked, pulling on his parents’ hands and running to the front doors of the rink as soon as his mom set him down. He didn’t stop buzzing throughout the string of processes it took to finally get to their seats, and he couldn’t restrain the excited yelps that escaped his mouth the moment he saw the first competitor glide out onto the ice.

From the first minute to the last, watching as each skater whirled and leaped and spun to the music they had chosen, Evan was entranced. Everything, from the glittering reflections bouncing off of the skates and costumes of the athletes, to the variety of music that accompanied the movements, and the sight of the three top placers on the podium had Evan squealing and clapping and watching with wonder.

But it was the gleaming of the gold metal around the champion’s neck, and how they looked so proud and genuinely _happy_  as they waved to the crowd and posed for the cameras that struck a realization into the boy.

 _This_  was what Evan wanted to do.

When he was seven, his father left, and that made it difficult.

 

* * *

 

Overwhelming cold struck Evan’s body, icy pain shooting up his bones as his body collapsed onto the surface below him.

“Again.”

Muscles ached as he lifted himself off of the ice. Shit, he could feel the bruises forming on his feet already. He hunched over, his lungs almost struggling to take in enough air.

“You want this, don’t you?”

Evan shot an exhausted glare, which posed as a wordless answer to the question. He then stretched, and his coach—coach Sherman—eyed him as he let pained noises escape his lips.

He did want this. He wanted it more than anything in the entire world, and he had for years. To be able to achieve his dreams was enough motivation to push through, though he had more than his fair share of times where he’d rather just give up or learn to be content with his current skills.

“You need to reach the level of professional skaters your age. Your rotation was off. Try the triple flip again.”

Hours of relentless practicing trying to perfect all of his areas of weakness seemed to be for naught. He’d already attempted the jump more times than he could count on his fingers, and drank more water than he probably had his entire life up to that point. Needless to say, right about now, he was ready to triple flip out of the window.

“Can I—can I take another break, please?” The teenager all but begged, flashing his best pleading eyes. Sherman’s stern expression faltered and she finally gave in after about an hour of consistent asking.

Evan Hansen was seventeen years old, and though he trained like one, he wasn’t a professional figure skater. Not yet, at least.

Okay, he didn’t usually train this hard, but now he had to. He had to push himself to be more than he’d ever been out on the ice because after ranking well in handfuls of local competitions, he’d finally been able to enter a national one and it was the biggest event of his life.

Winning this meant an opportunity to put something impressive on his college applications, and with what little money he and his mother had, he needed every boost he could get.

He was fortunate in the sense that his dad’s old ice skates that were left behind for Evan fit him, though they were a bit worn out and the blades were dull. They worked well enough, and besides, he was able to make it this far using them.

He didn’t rely too heavily on flashy costumes or impressive jumps, anyway. Channeling his emotions and, as his mother said, “making music with his body” was what he was the best at and he utilized it to the best of his ability.

Speaking of music,

“After you learn all of the jumps you need to, how do you feel about choosing music for your programs this year?” His coach asked, skating over to wear Evan was, leaning against one of the walls of the rink. He looked at her, bewildered, and she laughed.

“You, you mean… For my exhibition _and_  my free skate?” He choked out.

Evan had never really chosen his own music before. He had tried to, once, but when he showed his friend, he’d been made fun of. Easily defeated, he ended up retreating back to Sherman and letting her decide what she felt was best for him.

But… this was refreshing. Of course, there was the anxiety and overanalyzing that came with choosing the perfect song: something that wasn’t too short or too long, that didn’t have too much going on in it that it was overwhelming or not enough that it was boring, something relevant but still unknown enough to make an impression—there was just so many factors to consider.

That was all preliminary. Once he had his preferred songs (with approval from his coach, his mother and his ~~friend~~  Jared) it would make skating a lot less stressful. He would know exactly what he wanted to do, and hopefully muster up enough confidence to do so.

For the first time in a long while, Evan felt at ease.

 

* * *

 

Light.

All Evan could see was light.

Gleaming, blinding; illuminating the stadium and the pose his body adopted at the beginning of the routine he and his coach had spent countless months improving and refining until it was the best that he could manage to skate.

It was helpful in the sense that it drowned out his surroundings, but it proved also to be a folly for the fact that now all Evan could do is focus on the fact that everything was shrouded in an overwhelming radiance that caused a dull pain in his head.

But he _had_ to focus. He had to do his best, or else he would never be able to accomplish anything he wanted; and he _wanted_ , badly. If any doubts came to him now, it was too late. He’d already spent his time  ~~working his ass off~~  practicing for this. If this were to be the end of him, at least it would be evident in his final moments as a figure skater that he tried his absolute hardest.

He wished he could say that was enough for him.

The music started. There was no time for thinking now, especially not to think too hard about every little thing that he was doing, every minuscule movement of his muscles. Which he was, perpetually, but Sherman had said that would cause his downfall, and he couldn’t afford that.

So instead he focused on his [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuCUxseqky8). It helped that it was a song that he chose, one that was personal to him, a piece about overcoming adversity and making the effort to get what you want (at least, that’s how he perceived it).

Needless to say, it empowered him enough to forget his inhibitions for the duration of his performance, while he spun and twirled and leaped and poured his heart out on the ice. He tried not to pay too much attention to every slight movement of his feet, of the various contractions of his muscles as he tended to do often, and unfortunately that meant that his technical score suffered. The boy had hoped that at least attempting more difficult jumps would pay off for him.

Evan wasn’t too concerned about his jumps, anyway, and played to his strength of portraying emotion. He tried to the best of his ability to open himself up to those spectating him, radiating the raw feelings within him that he had hoped he could strike in others. Vulnerability was something he was used to, but it had never felt so... _personal_ before.

But, as he finished his routine, striking his final pose, all that the skater could do was wish with all of his might that he did well enough.

He _had_  to be good enough.

 

* * *

 

Sometime later, Evan was sitting cross-legged on his bed.

The teen has been scouring YouTube for what seemed like hours, listening to various tracks of music and subconsciously noting the emotions they portrayed. This was a sort of hobby he developed, and it helped him a lot with visualizing potential programs for himself.

The current song he was listening to had heavy piano that almost called out with anxiety; the fear overwhelming and present, and Evan could feel goosebumps rise on his skin as he took everything in.

Ironically, just as he determined this, his mom knocked on the bedroom door. Before Evan had a chance to do anything more than look up at her, she came in, beaming. Apparently her good mood was contagious because once Evan detected it he was smiling too, except not as wide.

“There’s my talented little man!” She said, coming over to him with wide arms. He instinctively closed his laptop—it was habit, by now—and though she had come in here for a reason, she couldn’t help but point it out.

She put an arm over Evan’s shoulder from behind and looked down at his computer. “What were ya looking at?” She asked. Evan’s shoulders tensed.

She was a good mother, of course, and Evan appreciated how hard she tried but she was still his mom and he was her son and he valued his privacy deeply. Even though he wasn’t doing anything scandalous he hated having to explain himself only to generate more awkward, mostly one-sided small-talk, so as long as she didn’t question him too much, he was fine.

Noting how tense the overall atmosphere of the room was, though (and mostly to avoid suspicion) Evan went about changing the subject. He looked up at her, shrugging off the previous topic. “Oh, uh, it was nothing—just um… what’s up?”

After hitting him with a skeptical glance she brushed off her previous curiosity, instead moving to sit in front of her son on his bed. The smile she was wearing before easily returned to her lips.

This could mean one of two things. Either she had really good news, or really bad news and was trying to cover it up and sugarcoat it before it was even revealed. Either way, Evan could feel suspense bubbling inside of him, ready to spill out at any given moment. He wished his anxiety didn’t do that to him, but there was really no way of stopping it. Heidi continued.

“Remember how you skated at that big event a couple months ago, and you and Coach Sherman had to talk to all of those fancy-pants people?” Evan cringed inwardly at her awkward mom-talk but quickly ignored it, remembering instead how much more embarrassing talking to all of those strangers had been.

Sometimes he wondered why he even skated in competitions, since it involved so much social interaction. And if there was any one thing Evan was bad at, it was talking to people. When he tried he stumbled on his words and his hands got all sweaty, a nervous wreck. His mom knew this, why she was bringing it up?

“Yeah, yeah, uh… why?”

The blonde woman took his hands in hers, standing up and making him do so as well. This only further increased his curiosity but he thought he may as well not question it any more so that she could get to the point faster.

“Well,” she started, visibly giddy. “Coach Sherman just called me, and apparently someone from the U.S. figure skating team was impressed by you!” She laughed happily, pulling Evan in for a big, pride-filled hug. “They want you to be on their team!”

Evan’s heart stopped. This had to be a joke, or a dream, or something. Him, the bumbling, awkward mess he was, impressed someone from the national figure skating department. Evan Hansen. Recruited for the United States team.

Heidi pulled back after a moment, looking at his blank, flushed features, and her face dropped a little. “Aren’t you excited, honey?” No response. “Evan?”

The teen blinked, looking his mother in the eyes. She had no reason to lie about something this significant and she would never do that even if a reason were available. But he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Him. Skating for the official United States figure skating team. That just seemed ridiculous.

“Yeah, but… are you sure they picked me? It’s just, I’m definitely not the most desirable person, you know? I mean, not that it’s impossible or anything,” He was rambling now, using wild gesticulations as was a normal part of his nervous word-spilling. “But are you sure they… they said Evan Hansen and not like, I dunno, Eli Hemming or something like that?”

Amused laughter filled the small room and Evan could swear he felt the collar of his t-shirt tightening.

“I’m absolutely positive. They chose my little guy!” A gentle hand stroked his heated face and he sighed, giving a sharp shrug.

“I just… I can’t believe it.” He said and his mother offered a knowing smile, letting her arms fall back to her sides.

“You better believe it.” She chimed in response, putting a hand tenderly on his shoulder. “See, all of the hard work paid off, just like I said.” Heidi moved her arm in an attempt to pinch Evan’s cheek, but he moved his hand up to block it and shuffled backward awkwardly. She selectively decided to ignore the action and Evan had her intention-to-not-make him-uncomfortable to thank for that.

She sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair, a familiar strain filling her features, and Evan just turned his attention down at his bed. He was picking at a loose blue string in his comforter, trying to find a way to break it off without ruining the rest of the stitching. They sat like that for a while.

Of course, Evan didn’t like seeing her stressed but he wasn’t good at comforting people or even really talking to his mom as it was. Of course he loved her, but they barely even saw each other. If anything, his coach was more of a parent to him.

Speaking of:

“Sherman’s gonna help us pay for coaching and all of that, too,” she piped up after a moment of what seemed like quiet contemplation. Evan only nodded in acknowledgment, not looking up.

Financial struggles were a persistent issue in the Hansens’ lives and since his dad left everything seemed to be about money. He hadn’t really always understood what that meant for them except that his mother was working two jobs to provide for them on her own, refusing the help of others.

Evan couldn’t help the pang of annoyance that the fact had caused within him. Their lives could have been better if not for her stubbornness and, not to mention, she was practically a stranger.

“I said I could do it myself, but,” Her voice drifted off and she chuckled again. Case in point.

After yet another elongated lull in the conversation—or rather, Evan listening to his mom talk—she moved over to the door.

“Anyway,” she started, turning to look at him again before leaving for good, “Practice starts in about a month! We can start buying new gear once I get paid this week.”

“Oh… good…” Evan replied, hesitant and a bit sarcastic. After she left, closing the door softly behind her, he just stared at the ground and felt himself start to zone off.

Now it was just him, alone, light blue walls like the sky all around him.

After years of being on the ice, skating his heart out until his feet were black-and-blue and sweat drenched his body—countless hours of practice that left his heart beating out of his chest and muscles aching with fatigue; after years of saving up what little money he and his mother had on ridiculously expensive skating gear; after pouring blood, sweat and tears into his dream: he did it.

Though it was difficult and exhausting and taxing, it was worth it, and he _made it_.

Evan Hansen was officially part of the United States figure skating team.


	2. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He seemed to always be observing from the bottom, watching people skate past him. Tapping frantically on the ice and wanting to join because he felt so insignificant and excluded but as soon as the spotlight was on him it scalded him and everyone’s expectations got the best of him.
> 
> So, basically, it was a never-ending loop. An eternal torture that he had to endure in order to do what he loved the most.
> 
> Pushing down the frog in his throat and trying his best to box up all of his feelings, he finished knotting his skates in a quick, slightly-too-aggressive action. (They were double-knotted, always, just in case.) After he took a few deep, rather shaky breaths he used what little willpower he had to push himself up off of the bench he was sitting on.
> 
> Well, it was now or never...?
> 
> He’d wished he could have at least a bit more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's (probably? maybe?) going to continue writing this, ayeee.
> 
> i mean, i'm not going to have very much time at all to write in the coming weeks, considering school and stuff. next week is tech week, too, so i'll try my best!!!
> 
> that being said, this was already written beforehand and i basically just copy-pasted it and quickly edited a few things. it's probably not as good as the last chapter, so i apologize for that.
> 
> my tumblr is benlevi if you want to yell at me to continue it, or just ask me questions and stuff. i've seen all of your comments and kudos and it means the world to me as a writer! they're mostly why i decided to try and continue this fic.
> 
> now, enjoy Dancing On the Blades chapter 2!

Evan’s first national-team practice was (almost) everything he’d hoped and dreamed it would be. Though he was too awkward to actually approach any of his teammates, he was ecstatic for the opportunity to be able to be with and skate on the same ice as them. Real, actual professional figure skaters in the flesh.

It kind of made him want to vomit. Partly from excitement, and partly from the fact that he knew he could never be as talented as them.

He recognized some of the athletes from watching pair skating and the women’s competitions (and saying they were incredibly skilled was a complete understatement), but he hadn’t actually allowed himself watch the men’s singles. He knew that if he did, he’d lose every bit of confidence in himself and his own abilities due to his lack of experience and overall talent. It wasn’t like he had much confidence to begin with, either.

How he got updated on the winners was his childhood friend, Jared Kleinman. Jared insisted that they were just “family friends” and his real friends were his peers at skate and Hebrew camp, but it was nice for Evan to believe that he had at least one friend. They’d been skating together since diapers, basically, so the friendly sentiment was still there.

Jared had been able to be on the United States team since the start of his senior skating career two years back, so the teen was relieved to at least know _one person_  when he joined.

That being said, almost immediately after the other boy’s attention caught him, he started towards him. A look of mock-pleasant-surprise filled his features, and simultaneously made Evan’s stomach feel as though it was being tied into a knot. As he spoke, his tone was overly-obvious and definitely meant to attract attention. The Kleinman death trap.

“Is that _Evan Hansen_? No fucking way!”

Evan immediately looked down to the floor, hoping that it’d make it seem like he didn’t notice him. Jared ignored it, coming up beside him and clapping a hand over his shoulder anyway, not taking his eyes off of his face as he did so. The dirty-blond desperately tried to prepare for the worst.

It was his mistake to assume this would at least be a little easy, but of course Jared had to make it difficult, because it was like it was Jared’s _job_  to make things difficult. Especially for Evan.

“It’s sure good to see you here, bud!” Evan squeezed his eyes shut, his body instinctively going stiff. Again, Jared ignored it, opting instead to go on with what he was saying.

“Hey, why don’t I introduce you to everybody?” He made a grandiose gesture to everyone around him with his free arm and Evan desperately wanted this moment to end. Jared had known that Evan hated being the center of attention; he even joked about his past failed attempts at stepping into the sun. This could be another butchered social interaction to add to his list, though, and how could he have possibly let that slip away from him?

Evan just hated how easy that Jared had made socializing with others seem, and how small it made himself feel whenever he couldn’t put the right words into a sentence, no matter how hard he tried. It sometimes felt like Jared was towering over him, casting a shadow as if to hide him, all the while looking down at him and laughing. It was unpleasant, being condescended like that, to say the very least.

“Please Jared, could you—could you please stop,” he choked out, the last two words coming out rather gruff. The other teenaged boy just let out a forced laugh, patting his shoulder in such a manner that it was as though an unfunny joke had just been told.

“Don’t be silly, Ev! Now everyone,” the brunette pointed at him, “This very nervous young man right here is Evan Hansen. He’s the newest asset to our team.”

Oh, great.

All eyes were on him now, and his face flushed. Somehow the judging glares of his peers were worse than the eyes of all of the people who’d come to see Evan skate before this point. And that was saying a lot, because he always felt like porcelain before going out to skate. Fragile, and ready to break when even the tiniest mishandle came about.

Coach Sherman had always just told him to shut out any other feelings other than the one he had to convey on the ice, but he couldn’t ignore this. Not without any music or movement to focus on; he could only consider the weight of the team’s opinions on him. It was crushing him mentally, stretching his emotions thin. Why did Jared always have to do this, why did he have to use such a patronizing tone?

“Me and ol’ Ev here go waaay back. He’s a pretty good guy.” Somewhere, detached from the cloudiness of his mind, Evan could hear a snort from one of his teammates. He knew they were quietly chattering about him but the overwhelm of everything was getting to him and he wouldn’t dare look up for the life of him.

Not being able to see them didn’t exactly help his case either, though, since he could still feel multiple pairs of eyes piercing him, their heat barely comparable to that of which was rapidly spreading over his face and neck. His hands were getting clammy, too, as per usual, and he clenched and unclenched them into fists almost rhythmically. The pressure was pushing needles into his body and that’s all he could focus on as Jared listed off the names of competitors he mostly already knew.

He assumed people knew he was too embarrassed to be paying attention, as they didn’t say anything to him when the naming-session finished off. After an uncomfortably long moment of staring they all went back to their business, leaving Jared and Evan alone.

Immediately Jared scoffed, taking his hand off of Evan and crossing his arms loosely. “Dude, lighten the fuck up.” And, as if he were talking to a small child, “Hey, at least people know who you are, now!”

The comment stung, but mostly because of the fact that Jared seemed not to take Evan’s emotions into account. It wasn’t like he _never_ did, but with something this significant, it made everything so much worse.

“You’re the worst.” Evan commented quietly, after a while of embarrassed silence.

“I know,” Jared responded easily, and pointed to a boy around their age. “But just wait until you meet him.”

The stranger was a ways off, but close enough still for Evan to be able to properly observe him. His thick brown hair was tied in a neat, tight bun at the back of his head and on his tall, rather lanky figure hung a signature team USA jacket that seemed to oddly compliment the scowl on his face.

There was an… unnatural edge about the skater, a stern look about him that gave the impression that he was going to war and not out to, well... figure skate. His body was tense, arms crossed tightly over his chest and it looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.

A shudder ran through Evan’s spine. This was someone he had to match talents with in his first year of internationally skating competitively.

He supposed it _was_  like war.

In an attempt to clear his mind and avoid over-thinking—it had been said on several occasions that that was what caused most of his mistakes—he decided to observe other things around him. Like the fact that next to the stranger was a blonde, teenage girl who was also sporting a USA jacket and looked to be accentuating his sour mood.

As if Evan didn’t know who _that_  was. It was Zoe Murphy, a skater from the ladies division. She wasn’t too well-known, especially not in the senior division since she was only sixteen and didn’t make a very spectacular debut the year before. She’d come in fourth overall, missing a spot on the podium, mostly due to her less-than-desirable short program.

Evan noticed her while watching the competitions, though and had developed a sort of crush on her.

Okay, not sort of. He had gotten pretty much obsessed and followed her skating career almost religiously. To him she was practically an idol, regardless of the fact that she was a year younger than him.

It seemed strange that she’d be around such a negative person. Or maybe he was too quick to judge—they were all on the same team, after all.

Actually, now that he thought about it, the brunette male had a sort of weird familiarity to him, but Evan shouldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was only until he turned around a bit more towards him that he got more of a clue.

Hey, he looked a lot like Zoe.

“Crazy Connor,” Jared started and Evan looked up at him, noting how he lightly shook his head. “Team United States’ resident freakshow,” He nudged Evan in the side, letting a out a snort.

“And of course, you already know Zoe from all of those jack-off sessions.”

Evan selectively ignored his comment, realizing a single fundamental truth.

This was her brother.

Evan had heard about Connor Murphy before on account of Jared but had never actually seen a picture of him. He’d read his name in a few articles and seen it in even more gossip-blog headlines but didn’t think much of it. Maybe he should have.

After all, this was the kid who threw his skate at the wall when he flubbed a salchow in practice, it barely missing another skater and lodging straight into a wall. The kid who had coined the nickname “Crazy Connor” among the other competitors, for somewhat obvious reasons.

All at once, the rumors didn’t seem all too unbelievable.

“That’s, that’s _Connor Murphy_?” Evan asked incredulously, because he was on his team and if he hadn’t already worried about his skill, now his physical safety was at risk, and even if he was too psyched out to skate good, at least he still could.

The shorter teen next to him nodded sharply. Evan could tell now that he’d put down his joking façade a little bit, his expression more bitter than it was a few moments ago. That was a mystery to Evan, how Jared seemed to conceal his emotions behind false-confidence.

That was a mystery for another day, though. Currently, Connor was the case he had yet to solve.

Evan had heard that he got fifth last season from Jared stating off the Grand Prix Finals placings. That wasn’t too bad, he supposed. He remembered his friend making fun of how he said he would “kick everyone else’s ass” to move up the rankings, but Jared himself had yet to even make it into the Finals. He’d said this year was “his year” and even suggested that Evan might turn out to be his good luck charm.

Though he wanted to see him succeed, he wanted to be more than someone Jared thought he needed around in order to win. That, and he also wanted to win. Somehow.

After a moment, the other spoke up, his tone quieter than the teen was used to. “Can you believe he didn’t even look up when I mentioned you? What a dick.”

Evan shrugged weakly, letting his eyes drift somewhere to the right of him where he saw another skater’s bag lying on the floor. “I don’t expect him to, though. To—to know me, I mean. Or really even care. I mean, I’m like basically nobody, Jared, so…”

He wasn’t wrong, he hadn’t expected anyone there to have even heard the name “Evan Hansen” before, besides Jared and the coach. He was better at skating than some others, he could admit, since he made it on the team, but he couldn’t convince himself that he deserved it. All he’d done was won a few local competitions that were only important to people in his hometown, but he did score high in the nationals.

Regardless, he was by no means the “star” of any team, especially not one so big or important as his country’s.

Jared looked at him, his expression almost pitiful. As though he felt bad for him in some way. He sighed, closing his eyes in frustration for a beat before looking back up and eyeing Connor from a distance. By the way he looked at him, with wonder in his eyes, Evan could tell he also considered him an enigma.

He spoke. “Still. It feels like all he thinks he has to do is skate and win or some shit, but he was new once, too.” Evan shot his friend a mystified look. “He barely talks to anyone. Guess he’s just some sort of elitist, loner asshole.”

Evan shrugged, unsure. “Yeah, I guess.”

He didn’t know Connor that well but from what he saw, it was chilling. A soldier out on the ice, his determination even when he wasn’t skating made that much clear. Possibly as icy as what they were skating on as well, if not for the fiery personality Evan was sure the other possessed. He wondered for a moment if he had ever been close to anyone. Evan never really got that opportunity, his insecurity held him back from that.

After a moment of awkward staring and even more awkward silence Jared sighed and shot a smirk at Evan, he tipped his chin up to gesture ahead of them. Evan looked at the rink and then back at Jared who was staring at him knowingly.

Oh right, they were here to practice.

“Well,” Jared started, nodding at him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

* * *

 

Evan felt doubt like bile rising in his throat as he tied his ice skates. Jared already went on without him, but all he could focus on was the familiar nausea he felt when everything was just too much. Because that was exactly what this was. _Too much_. His legs felt weak and the rest of him stone-heavy, his stomach an ocean of worry.

He’d practiced like hell before he’d traveled to the official rink and felt pretty confident physically, but even then that limp reassurance didn’t help calm the raging emotional storm in his mind.

No, now he was surrounded by so much talent and intimidation that he felt like he might as well be trapped underneath the ice with how suffocating it felt, every other skater’s movements painstakingly drawing the breath straight out of his lungs.

He seemed to always be observing from the bottom, watching people skate past him. Tapping frantically on the ice and wanting to join because he felt so insignificant and excluded but as soon as the spotlight was on him it scalded him and everyone’s expectations got the best of him.

So, basically, it was a never-ending loop. An eternal torture that he had to endure in order to do what he loved the most.

Pushing down the frog in his throat and trying his best to box up all of his feelings, he finished knotting his skates in a quick, slightly-too-aggressive action. (They were double-knotted, always, just in case.) After he took a few deep, rather shaky breaths he used what little willpower he had to push himself up off of the bench he was sitting on.

Well, it was now or never...?

He’d wished he could have at least a _bit_ more time.

His thoughts were cut short, however, when out of the blue the door to the room slammed open and Zoe Murphy charged past him, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. His new coach, her father Larry Murphy, was in toe. Not knowing what to do, Evan froze up.

Well, wish granted, he guessed.

The first thought to pop into his head was that he shouldn’t be here. He should just ignore all of this and leave, this wasn’t his business. But as the realization struck that if he did leave he had to go out there and, y’know, actually  _skate_ , he was perfectly content in staying in the exact same spot. Unmoving, grounded, like a statue.

But that’d be awkward. Maybe he could just untie his skates and tie them all over again like he’s doing it for the first time, or just pretend he’s stretching or something,

“I don’t see why he can’t at least _pretend_  to be a good brother for two seconds,”

Then, he heard that. And, probably against his better judgment, he stayed.

From his spot standing in the middle of the room he spread his legs apart, reaching down to his right foot in a stretch. It wasn’t bad if he didn’t actually intend on listening in to the conversation, if he happened to overhear some of it then that was that.

…Right?

“I swear, it’s like I can’t bring you two anywhere—”

“Well, it’s not my fault!” Zoe yelled. Evan peeked back, spotting Larry looking like he was trying his hardest to restrain himself. Though his back was facing the younger boy it still seemed to be a great struggle.

This was really like one of those behind-the-scenes moments for such a sparkly-seeming family, or like a reality TV show, he thought. He felt guilt clawing at his chest and had the urge to leave, he just couldn't bring himself to. In a weird, sort of morbid way it made him feel better about his own living conditions. That was bad, he knew, but if Zoe Murphy could face struggles and still be a successful figure skater...

“He’s like this at home, he’s like this here, he’s like this everywhere we go!” She uncrossed her arms and shrugged sharply, a bitter half-laugh escaping her lips. “It’s like we can’t ever be a normal family.”

Okay, but this was definitely none of Evan’s business. He made up his mind, he was leaving now.

As he tried in vain attempt to slip away, though, and just as he pushed the crash bar on the door, there was a call of “Hey!”

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

His shoulders tensed but he glanced back, eyes wide. God, fuck, he probably looked like a deer in headlights. It was his first day and already messed up, he invaded the privacy of his coach (who he’d barely even known) of all people, and now he was caught and was going to get in trouble for it. Or worse, kicked off. But he probably deserved it.

Zoe was obviously annoyed at being interrupted. She rolled her eyes in detestment, sighed, and sat on the nearest bench to brood. Larry selectively ignored this and turned to face Evan.

“You’re the new kid – Evan Hansen, right?” His expression was unreadable and Evan didn’t know what to think. Was he mad? Disappointed? Embarrassed? The teenager stepped back inside, allowed the door to close again, and let out a nervous laugh.

Way to go, Evan, you really took the cake with this one. What a great first impression.

“Oh, uh—me?” He pointed to himself and tried to casually shrug off his nervousness, though it just ended up seeming more gauche. “Yeah, Evan Hansen, that’s… that’s me. I’m Evan. Nice to meet you?” He offered. Why did he say it like it was a question? Now he was worried that Larry thought it that he wasn’t totally happy to finally meet him, was was untrue.

“Not that—not that it _wouldn’t_ be nice to meet you or anything because it really is and I’m just so honored, y'know?” The words spilled out of his mouth before he had the chance to even think about controlling them. “And I, I get nervous because you’re _Larry Murphy_  and I’m just Evan Hansen,”

The gestures and emphasis making fun of his own name earned him a glance that was a mix between pity and amusement, and now Zoe was looking at him as if he had two heads.

“…and you already know that.” He finished, looking to the ground and scratching the back of his head nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Evan’s head perked up when he heard a feminine voice. Not what he was expecting. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Evan… didn’t really have a specific answer for that. He felt bad, and whenever he felt bad he apologized, it was like a natural reflex to him. It was his turn to look at her oddly.

“I know I just…” He trailed off, holding his forearm and glancing somewhere off to the side. “It’s just, like, a force of habit I guess, I… sorry.”

“You really don’t have to be.” He turned his gaze back to see that, though still quite obviously pissed off, she seemed to relax a bit. There was a gentle grace about her as she extended her hand to greet him properly. “Whatever. I’m Zoe.”

Evan walked towards her more awkwardly than he’d wished and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake but quickly retracting his own limb to wipe it on his pants.

His hands were sweaty, that was gross, and she touched it and now his sweat was on her hand but thinking about it made him even more sweaty and nervous and his heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“Oh, yeah, I know.” He blurted.

“You know?” Zoe questioned, and suddenly realized something.

“That’s right," she pointed to him weakly, the corners of her lips barely turning up, "You’ve probably seen me compete.”

The stuffiness of the room was almost suffocating as they stood there, motionless.

“Yeah.” He said, unable to control the way that his voice cracked.

So no, it wasn’t like he’d dreamed all those years. She could tell something was wrong, too, as she choked out a confused laugh and started eyeballing him again. “You really want to apologize again, don’t you?”

“Very much so, yes,” he blurted out, and nodded vigorously. He took another chance to wipe off his hands and rocked on his feet. “But uh, it’s really, really good to meet you.”

Zoe exhaled sharply from her nose, seemingly entertained, and that did little to alleviate the silent suffering that plagued Evan. He embarrassed himself again, and in front of his crush no less. At least she didn’t think he was totally weird. Maybe only a little bit weird. Thinking about that definitely was not helping.

Larry let out a chuckle as well, clapping Evan on the back as a friendly gesture. He stiffened at the force. “It’s nice to have you on the team, Hansen. You’ve got real potential.”

He turned to Zoe.

“We’ll continue this discussion later. For now, why don’t you go show Evan around?”

His demeanor seemed more cautiously stern, as if he didn't want to allude to Evan any issues that he and his daughter may have been discussing. She rolled her eyes but obliged, and started on her way out of the room. Evan hesitated at first, and obviously she noticed, as when she pushed the crash bar and turned back. She seemed expectant.

"You coming?" She asked, and raised her eyebrow. Evan faltered, shaking his head quickly. He took a deep breath, looked Zoe in the eyes and offered up a hesitant smile.

"Yeah."

She returned the favor and after letting go of the door, Evan followed, them both stepping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anyone jumps on me: i don't personally use the word "cr*zy" and i know it's pretty controversial. i initially tried trading the word with a more tame alternative but whatever i replaced it with just seemed silly. i think, too, that it's probably the most accurate in a real-life example (especially considering how nts use it) sooo yeah.
> 
> regarding updates: i don't have a solid update schedule yet. i don't even really have a solid idea of where i'm going next with this, but hey, that's most of the fun of it, right? it'll all be figured out in due time.
> 
> in the meantime, though, thank you again for giving this silly little thing attention. <3

**Author's Note:**

> *preface
> 
> it should be said that though i tried my best to research it, i don't know how being recruited for national figure skating teams go, so i apologize because that's probably inaccurate haha
> 
> some things you should know about figure skating before reading can be found at this link: http://www.nbcolympics.com/news/figure-skating-101-rules-scores-and-judging
> 
> thanks again for reading!


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